


Last chance to see

by Dirty20 (transarchivist)



Series: Vaguely Interrelated Identity Crisis Widobrave Fic [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, F/M, Friends to maybe lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Self-Hatred, angsty porn, coping with change, mutual pining except in totally different ways, possible infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21566749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transarchivist/pseuds/Dirty20
Summary: She goes to him before dawn on the day that he’s going to change her, and fucks him to make the distance between them feel smaller.
Relationships: Nott/Caleb Widogast
Series: Vaguely Interrelated Identity Crisis Widobrave Fic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644529
Comments: 15
Kudos: 133





	Last chance to see

Nott has seen the spell Caleb has been working on. He’s kept her in the loop, talked her through the runes on every page, brought her with him to buy the components. She weighed them out herself, being more used to using scales than Caleb. 

He doesn’t ask if she’s sure, and she’s very grateful. 

He just tells her it’s done, and to come to him when she’s ready. 

She knows, from what he told her, that it’s a quick spell. No hour-long rituals, no days of preparation, no lengthy incantation. She could walk into the room with him, and walk out as Veth five seconds later. 

It is they who need a ritual, not the magic. 

She thinks about it for an hour, then a day, and then, because she’s at risk of mulling over her choices forever, she wakes Caleb at four in the morning with a knock on his door. 

She can hear him before he opens the door, backlit by his dancing lights, his confused expression turning to something grim and determined. He’s wearing pyjamas, which is still strange to her. She rarely sees him sleep these days when they aren’t on the road, but then, she’s in a bright yellow nightdress, which he hasn’t seen either. He swallows and asks, his voice weak and rough from sleep, “Is it time?”

She shakes her head, ears flapping. “Can we do it first thing in the morning?”

Then she hovers at the threshold, wondering what she expected, until he steps aside to let her into his room.   
  
Wordlessly she climbs into his unmade bed, feeling the heat from where he was sleeping. Caleb joins her, pulling her back against his chest and tugging the covers over them.   
  
Sleep isn’t easy. She focuses on how she feels, how her claws rest on the back of Caleb’s arm around her waist, how her long ear is trapped against his other arm, how skinny and wiry her goblin body is, that it makes his delicate human one feel large. 

She turns in his arms, trying not to disturb him as she twists to face him. Caleb’s eyes are open though, and he shifts his grip to let her move, the arm she’d been using as a pillow slipping away so that he can cup her face, fingers finding the faint raised lines of her tattoo. 

She watches him examine her, trying to commit the sensations she’s feeling to memory, while he does the same to her face. 

He strokes her side through her nightdress, fingers skimming over the ribs that won’t be prominent in morning. 

“Are you sad Caleb?” She whispers. He looks sad, wistful, like he sometimes does when talking about his past. 

Caleb sighs, but doesn’t cease his examination of her face. “No... I’m happy for you. I just... I will miss you badly, and I... I...”

She smiles sadly back at him. She’ll almost miss herself, but only almost. She leans into the palm against her cheek, kissing it. He smells good, of gum Arabic and burned matches. “It’s alright to be sad, so long as you don’t resent me or anything.”

“I won’t.” 

Caleb shifts until his face is next to hers. She kisses that too.

She’s kissed him before, but it’s been fast, passionate, joyful. At most, an ambiguous celebration between friends. 

Now she lingers, aware that he can feel her teeth through her lips. He kisses her back. Bittersweet, still chaste. His own lips are bitten and chewed on, and the corner of his mouth is a little wet, as though he’s been crying, or is about to. When she pulls back, he takes a deep, juddering breath, and presses his forehead to hers, his eyes watering but not spilling over. 

“I...” Caleb whispers. 

“You what?”

He sighs and kisses her again. When he pulls back, she follows him, keeping her nose to his, as though he would pull all the way back if he saw her face. 

He has to be the one that deepens it, because she can’t, can’t ever imply that someone would want her like this. He does, his eyes open and watching hers as he returns the kiss and opens his mouth, his lips parting against hers to suck in air for something like a sob.   
  
She isn’t aware of her arms moving until her claws are twisted in his nightshirt. They kiss their way around the periphery of what would be considered making out. Every touch would be ambiguous in the right light, like they would need to deny each moment in a court of law. 

Caleb’s hand on her side squeezes her tightly, his thumb managing to press against her nipple through her night dress in a way that could just about be accidental.

She mirrors it, letting the scrape of her claw over his own be just a little more obvious.

He opens his mouth to speak, panting out his breaths against her lips, but doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t say _you’re married_ , or _is this just one time_ or _what about tomorrow_? 

He just rubs his thumb over her nipple again, and then rubs the hand down her side, all the way to her mid-thigh, and back up, under her night dress. 

His fingers are cool on her skin as they slide up her side to settle where they had been before, the pad of his thumb just brushing her pubic hair, before it returns to teasing the same nipple. She fumbles with the buttons on the dress for a moment, and one by one they fall open.

He looks at her, greedily, fixing the image in his mind, pushing the dress out of the way so he can see more. She has nothing on beneath it, every jutting rib, every scar there for him to see. He rubs at a long healed burn on her hip, and a small round scar an inch from her left nipple, where a crossbow bolt once pierced her breast. The scar has no sensation, but the nipple hardens.   
  
She reaches for the buttons on his shirt, and he watches as she undoes them, still saying nothing, just kneading her breast with one hand and stroking her side and back and belly with the other. 

He’s not as thin as he once was - he’s had a few weeks since the leanest days ended, when they were strung out and had barely time to rest and eat. There are healed scars, old bruises, records of everything that had happened to him from birth until now. He still looks tired, a little wan, a little conflicted. But his dick is beginning to tent the fabric of his pants, and she wants to be close to him right now, wants to swallow up the intimacy in whatever way she can. 

She reaches out with one clawed, goblin foot, and tugs down on his waistband, not hard enough to expose him. He watches her face curiously, still biting back words neither of them want to hear. _I’m not allowed to feel these things, you’re not allowed to feel these things_.

And then he shifts his hips so that she can drag the fabric down without resistance. 

They both move at once to press the other back against the sheets, and instead end up pressing themselves together, chest to chest, his cock against her leg and her juices slick against his belly. 

They rut there for a moment, two people trying their best to fuck while maintaining some vestige of plausible deniability, but his greater weight wins out and eventually Nott rolls onto her back, Caleb half leaning over her. 

He kisses her again, properly, licking at teeth, and she reaches down to grab the head of his cock, large in her hand, and squeeze.   
Caleb whimpers into her mouth, one hand still cupping her breast as the other pushes her knee aside. She knows he doesn’t touch himself, fuck anyone, knows this whole act demands more than one conversation, but there’s too much left unsaid to risk it. She swallows, keeping her throat shut tight against the threat of conversation. 

His hand glides up her thigh to her damp pubic hair, and his fingers find her vulva. Caleb breaks the kiss, lifting his body away from hers on his shaky, weak limbs, so that he can look down between them and watch.

Nott tries not to flinch away from his gaze, not to brace for disgust or rejection. In her hand, Caleb’s cock dribbles precum like he’s trying to compete with her, as she worries the underside of the head with her fingertips, careful to angle the claws away.   
  
Caleb spreads her slick folds until he finds her clit, swollen and engorged and pulsating in time with her pounding heart. He tweaks it between thumb and forefinger, and she finally opens her throat and moans. 

Caleb closes his eyes against the sound, like it’s too much, and then crooks his middle finger into her, rubbing it over her opening. It feels huge for a finger, and foreign, nothing like when she carefully pushes a claw of her own in. She can feel the callous where he rests his pen.   
“Please,” she whispers against his cheek, twisting the centre of her palm against the head of his cock.   
  
Caleb says nothing back, but dips the tip of his finger inside of her. She’s soaked, and it’s an easy slide, even though she tries to cling onto it. He kisses her again as he rubs both her clit and the walls of her pussy, rutting into her palm, until she cums hard against his hand, clenching tight around his finger. His lip is bleeding, and she can taste it, but her brain didn’t seem to record the moment she bit him. 

She tugs the base of his cock now, bending to reach, pulling it towards her. She can see the doubt on his face, but he lets her guide him until the head is pressed against her pussy. 

It looks huge against her. His hips judder from the sensation of her wet vulva on the underside of his head, rubbing it lightly against her oversensitised clit, but he doesn’t try to enter her.

Instead, she takes the head herself, and pushes it inside, stuffing it in clumsily as it slips against her fingers. 

It fills her to bursting and then some, but her body accepts it like a last meal, and the pain is minor, an almost pleasant burn. He sinks in slowly until about two thirds of his length is inside her, his open-mouthed pants unsteady against her forehead. 

Her pussy is stretched so wide that the underside of her clit is pulled against the top of his shaft, and Caleb reaches the hand he isn’t using to hold himself up between them and rubs it with his thumb, his fingers teasing at her stretched hole to gauge the depth as he slowly pulls halfway out and gently pushes back in. 

It turns Nott into something quite unlike Veth in the bedroom. She writhes as he fucks her, feet tearing his sheets and her nails scratching at his back and chest. 

She can’t reach him to kiss him easily, so she sucks and bites at his neck instead, trying to be gentle.

Caleb moans and gasps as she comes again around him, every clenching of her muscles bordering on pain for both of them, but so good, so long anticipated, so sweet. 

Her slick is running out down the base of his shaft and his balls smear it back against her ass cheeks as he continues to fuck her, gaining a little pace as the muscles relax, letting him fuck a little faster, a little deeper.   
  
Nott squirms beneath him as he tugs on her clit, almost too sensitive to bear, and she forgets herself for just a moment, letting her teeth pierce the skin of his throat and feeling the blood spill into her mouth. 

Caleb cries out and shudders in pain or pleasure, and she feels the warm rush of his cum filling non-existent places inside of her. 

She works her hips, milking him beyond his orgasm, cums again on his final thrusts, constricting around his spent cock as he tries to pull away. 

He groans at the sensation, grimacing in pain, though she manages not to bite him this time.   
Caleb lets himself fall to her side, his waist in the crook of her raised knee, and pulls out by lifting her body off of himself towards the head of the bed. 

They lie side by side, panting raggedly, stinking of sweat and sex, their faces brought back into line. Nott has her legs trapped open, with the trunk of Caleb’s body pinning one to the bed. His softening cock lies spent against her inner thigh, head just barely outside of her wide open hole, suddenly so empty and sticky with the fluids from both their bodies. If he were hard again, she could just slide right back down on him. 

It takes them a minute to catch their breath, and then it’s back, ready to be spent on the words they’ve been trying so hard not to say. 

Nott’s mind is blank, so many conflicting thoughts scrolling through that nothing of substance can take hold. She pulls her leg and Caleb sits up, freeing it. The bite is bloody and bruised, but nothing too severe. Perhaps it’ll scar, and leave another record on his person. His lips are a split and swollen, his back and sides and chest covered with claw marks and tiny beads of blood. He lays down on his back beside her, shoving the blankets from the edge of the bed.

She turns to face away from him, not so different from how they’d slept many times, or how they’d been lying a few hours before. After a minute, Caleb rests his hand on her arm, like he’d done a hundred times, except she’s naked and his fingers smell of inside of her. 

It’s not the post-coital experience she’s used to, or rather, the one she’d once been used to. Her heart is racing, like she’s going towards her wildest dreams, her execution, something. If she lies still enough, the force of her heartbeats make the strands of sweat-soaked hair that have fallen across her face jump at a hundred beats a minute. When Caleb finally positions his chest against her back, she can feel his heart racing too, feel the occasional jerkiness of his breath. 

“The sun rises in exactly ten minutes,” he says at last, bending to kiss the bullet scar on her shoulder.   
  
“Ten more minutes,” she confirms, turning in the bed to bury her face against his bruised neck.   


**Author's Note:**

> I actually have a small second chapter for this mostly ready but it isn’t very sexy so I didn’t put it in.
> 
> (Also: edited to italicise stuff because apparently I pasted this whole fic into AO3 without formatting)


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